Heat of the Moment…Moment…Moment
by IMTheresa
Summary: Originally published in the Mystery Spot zine, "You’ll Thank Me When It’s Wednesday", this story shows how a distraught Sam reacts to witnessing his brother's death 97 times.


**Heat of the Moment….Moment….Moment**

This story appeared in the _Mystery Spot_ inspired zine, _You'll Thank Me When It's Wednesday_.

oooOOOooo

Sam Winchester's worst nightmare was losing his brother. Dean was all he had left; he'd never known his mother, his girlfriend and father were dead….if they couldn't find a way out of the deal Dean made with the Crossroads Demon, once his year was up and the hell hounds came for him, Sam would be alone. And he loved his brother more than anything.

People shouldn't have to live their worst nightmare, but Sam had lived his 97 times. The last 97 times he woke up, it was Tuesday morning and that damn Asia song was playing on the radio. Not only was it on the radio, Dean was _lip synching _the damn thing. And…._dancing_. Sort of, anyway. It looked more like bouncing and pointing, but after seeing it 97 times, Sam just didn't care. Every day started out the same way and every day Sam had to explain the situation to his brother.

He had to find a way out of this time loop. Not just because he freakin' hated Asia, but because living the same day over and over….He didn't want to watch Dean die again, but he had no choice until he could figure a way out. It didn't matter if they went out for breakfast or stayed in. It didn't matter if they went to the diner down the street or to the coffee shop in the opposite direction. No matter what they did or where they did it, Dean would die at some point during the day and Sam would wake up at 7:30 on Tuesday morning to the sound of _Heat of the Moment. _God, he hated Asia.

They'd come into town to investigate a disappearance at the Broward County Mystery Spot and at first, Sam had thought that had something to do with the time loop. Gradually he realized it wasn't related, but not before duct taping the owner of the Mystery Spot to a chair and tearing the place apart with an axe.

He'd seen Dean shot, hit by a car, electrocuted, and crushed by a falling desk. He'd been poisoned by a taco, choked on sausage, slipped in the shower, and mauled by a golden retriever. Hell, Sam had even killed him once. Stupid axe.

---

The day had started just like it had 96 times before. Sam woke up to the sound of Asia on the radio followed by Dean's entrance into the room dancing and lip synching that heinous song. Sam didn't want to get out of bed. He didn't want to face the same damn day again and he didn't have any more of an idea how to make it end than he had before.

"What's wrong, Sammy? The day's wastin' away and I'm hungry! Get outta bed so we can get some breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," Sam pulled the blanket up over his head.

"Oh, come on, Sammy!"

Sam felt the blanket being jerked away and he opened his eyes to see Dean's expectant face above him and he felt a sudden flash of anger.

"Why the hell are you so happy this morning?" he demanded, grabbing the blanket. "You were here all last night, so I know you didn't get laid."

Sam saw the pain pass over Dean's face, but it was quickly masked by a smirk. "Maybe I had some good dreams. What's got your panties in a wad?"

"Nothing," Sam grumbled, turning away from his brother. He heard him sit on the opposite bed.

"You sick or something?" Dean asked.

"No."

"Okay, Mr. Grumpypants. I'm going out; I'll bring you back some coffee."

Sam grunted. They'd separated before and Dean had still died.

"I'll be at the diner, I guess."

"Fine."

Sam sensed that Dean was watching him, but after a few moments he heard the motel room door open and close. Alone, he turned back over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Another Tuesday. Another death. He had to find a way to end the time loop or he was going to go insane.

---

Dean was used to his brother's mood swings, but there was something strange about this morning. Sam normally got up after him, but he was almost never in a bad mood. And he couldn't remember Sam _ever_ pulling the blanket up over his head; even when he was little, unless there was a game of hide and seek involved.

Nothing unusual had happened the night before. They'd decided to stay in and watch a movie while Sam looked for more information to help with the job they'd come to town to do. Sam was fine when he went to sleep.

The more he thought about his brother's mood that morning, the less Dean felt like eating. He ordered coffee and opened the newspaper, more to keep himself from staring into space than to actually read it. Dean couldn't shake the idea that something was wrong. It just wasn't like Sam to wake up in a bad mood for no reason.

He wondered if Sam had had a dream that bothered him. His visions seemed to have ended and even though they had been tied to the yellow-eyed demon, there really wasn't a reason to believe they were gone for good. But Sam would have told him about a vision. He probably would have even told him about a bad dream. Wouldn't he? God knows they had their share of secrets, especially considering how close they were, but Dean didn't think that Sam would be hesitant to talk to him about a dream.

Dean left the diner a few minutes later without breakfast. He didn't want to go back to the room quite yet, thinking if he gave Sam some time alone, his mood would improve. He decided to do some research on his own, so he headed off to the Mystery Spot. Normally he'd prefer breaking in after hours so they could look around undisturbed, but they could do that, too. At least this way he'd get the lay of the land and maybe be able to ask some questions.

The Mystery Spot guided tour lasted over an hour and while Dean asked the guide questions that could have come from any curious tourist, she didn't generally waver from answers that seemed scripted and that weren't a lot of help. At the end of the visit, Dean felt as if he'd wasted his time, but that didn't surprise him. He had been pretty sure the tourist trap would be a dead end and it appeared that he was right. He and Sam would probably still make a stop after hours to really check it out, though.

Dean glanced at his watch as he walked toward his car. It was nearly lunch time and he was hungry again; he hoped Sam was in a better mood because he really wanted some company while he ate. He pulled out his cell phone as he slipped behind the wheel of the Impala and hit the speed dial number for Sam's phone. He frowned as it rang enough times that Dean thought it would go to voice mail, surprised to hear his brother answer.

"Hey, Dean."

Sam still didn't sound quite himself. "Hey. Where are you?"

"I went out for a walk; ended up at a library a few streets away from the room. Where are you?"

"I'm just leaving the Mystery Spot. It's a great big zero, just like I thought it would be. How about I swing by and pick you up? I can tell you about it over lunch."

"Sure," Sam agreed and gave him directions to the library.

---

Sam was standing on the sidewalk when Dean pulled up to the curb. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his head was down. His clothes were rumpled and Dean wasn't entirely sure he hadn't been wearing them the day before. His hair was more unkempt than usual and didn't appear to have been washed. Sam got into the car without a word and looked straight ahead.

"Sam…" Dean began, his comment dying on his lips when Sam looked at him. It had been a long time since Dean had seen such a haunted look in his brother's eyes. Sam had been sad after their father died, but not since Jessica's death had Dean seen this look on Sam's face. Dean couldn't begin to imagine what was wrong. "Dude…."

"Just drive." Sam stared straight ahead again.

Dean couldn't tear his eyes from his brother.

"Just drive," Sam said again.

It took every bit of strength Dean had to look away and get the car back on the road. What the hell was wrong?

---

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the first restaurant he saw. It didn't look like it was the worst place they'd ever eaten at, but it seemed far from the best. Sam was sitting with his head down and his hands in his lap; he didn't move even after Dean had turned off the engine and removed the key from the ignition.

"Okay, enough," Dean said quietly, but firmly. He turned toward Sam and put his arm over the back of the seat. If he uncurled his fingers just a little, he could touch his brother's shoulder. "What's wrong, Sam?"

He saw Sam's eyes close and his head dipped even further.

"I don't know how to fix it."

"Fix what?"

"The time loop."

"The what?"

Sam smirked, then laid his head on the back of the seat. "This is the 97th time I've told you about the time loop."

Dean was confused. He would admit to not always listening to Sam, but to have missed something 96 times before?

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

"I don't know what's going on, but we keep living the same day over. This is the 97th time. We're stuck in some kind of time loop and I'm the only one who remembers." Sam sounded defeated. "At first, we did the exact same thing every day. Then I started to do random things; anything, so that it wouldn't end the same way. No matter what I do, no matter what changes, the end is always the same."

"How does it end?" Dean asked. He didn't believe they were stuck in a time loop, this wasn't _Star Trek_ after all, but clearly Sam believed it.

Sam turned his head to look at his brother. "You die."

"Say what? Sam, come on. I'm right here."

"For now. I can't take it any more, Dean. I can't watch you die again."

Dean swallowed hard. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach and something told him that Sam was telling him the truth. "How do I die?"

"Different ways. The first few it was pretty much the same, but…."

"Well….Sam, come on. A time loop? Like in –"

"Yeah, like in _Groundhog Day_."

"Do you know how –"

"Crazy you sound, Sam?" he finished Dean's sentence. "Yeah."

"How'd you do that?"

"We've had this same conversation –"

"96 times. I got that."

Sam shook his head. "No. I mean, yeah, it's been 96 times, but it's not always the exact conversation."

Dean rubbed his chin. "So, we just vary the pattern and –"

"That won't work. I already told you that."

Dean glanced toward the restaurant. "Look, dude, I'm hungry. I skipped breakfast because of your mood and I'd be willing to bet you did, too. Let's go inside, get something to eat and think about this."

Once they were seated at a table and had ordered something to drink, Dean glanced around. "So, have we ever been here before?"

Sam nodded.

"Have I ever gone to the Mystery Spot alone?"

Sam nodded again.

"What did I tell you about it?"

"Which time?" Sam asked, sounding exhausted.

Dean sighed and sat back in his chair. "Sam…."

"I'm the only one who can fix this. I'm the only one who remembers living it before."

Dean looked at his brother. "You look like crap."

"Yeah, well, you'd look like crap too if you'd lived the same horrible day 96 times before."

"I'd _never_ look like crap," Dean smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.

Sam smirked in response.

"Okay, let's talk about this. We can figure this out."

Sam rubbed his face. "I can't do this again, Dean."

"We can figure this out," Dean said again. "And you won't have to do it again."

Sam looked at his brother; some of the haunted look in his eyes had been replaced by hope.

---

Dean refused to think about dying. Sam had managed to convince him this time loop thing was for real and he saw the effect it was having on his brother. He knew Sam was getting _some_ rest because he was asleep when Dean woke up, but was it more than just a few minutes? There was no way to tell. As Sam explained, he'd see Dean die and then he'd wake up to the sound of Asia on the radio. Sam told him he'd even changed the radio station a few times, but the song never changed.

Different amounts of time would pass each time they lived the day over. Once Sam figured out he could, he varied their activities and Dean lived longer, some times more than others. It seemed that no matter what they did, the time loop continued. So, they concluded, they had to find out who or what was responsible for it. And they had to find the cause before Sam became too despondent to even try.

After lunch, the brothers went back to the motel room so that Sam could make detailed charts of each of the previous Tuesdays they'd lived. They were working from the theory that if the time loop was caused by some supernatural entity, whatever it was would want to be around to watch what happened. If they could pinpoint a few likely suspects, that would give them something new to work with. According to Sam, this was something they hadn't attempted before and being in the room for the next few hours would hopefully keep Dean out of harm's way. Dean was convinced if he could stay alive until midnight, time would just reset itself

With something different to concentrate on, even though they were outlining each of the ways Dean had died, Sam's mood improved. Dean was truly horrified at some of his deaths, though some were utterly hilarious. He could picture his legs sticking out from under the desk that had fallen on him. The Wicked Witch had nothing on him. All of the deaths appeared to be quick and he was grateful for that. He couldn't help but wonder how it would happen when his year was up and he had to make good on his crossroads deal.

Dean did his best to keep the mood light. Color had returned to his brother's face and he was dealing with the problem as if he really thought they could find a solution. It was much better than him brooding and hiding under the covers.

A few hours later, the motel room walls were decorated with the charts Sam put together. Dean stood in the middle of the room, his eyes moving over the paper hanging on the walls. They looked like some sport's tournament bracket, but they did lead to a few potential suspects. Quite a few actually, but apparently they had time to investigate. Well, they did if Sam could withstand living through the day over and over

---

Sam looked at his watch. It was almost 7:00; the longest Dean had stayed alive yet. Maybe this would be the last time he had to live through Tuesday. He was feeling good, despite what he'd spend the last few hours doing, but he wanted to take a break. He suggested they order a pizza and stay in the room since that seemed to be safe. When Dean agreed, Sam wasn't sure it was because he shared Sam's optimism or if Dean was doing whatever he could to placate him.

"You know what would go great with that pizza?" Dean asked after closing the door of the small refrigerator.

"You want beer?" Sam had been stretched out on his bed, but sat up when he asked the question.

"We need something to drink. May as well be beer," Dean reached for his car keys, but Sam moved with almost superhuman speed to snatch them before he could.

"I'll go. You just stay here," Sam headed for the door before Dean could say anything. With his hand on the door knob, Sam paused and looked at his brother. "I'll be right back. Just….just stay here."

Sam slipped behind the wheel of the Impala, a feeling of calm spreading over him. In five hours, it would be Wednesday. He hadn't been this close to Wednesday in 97 Tuesdays and he knew that they'd make it. As he drove toward the convenience store that he knew was several blocks away, Sam wondered what the morning would bring. Would their charts and notes still litter the room or would they somehow disappear? Would Dean remember what had happened on his last Tuesday?

He had just picked up a six-pack of Dean's favorite beer when Sam heard the sirens. Somehow he knew they were coming from fire trucks that were on their way to the motel. He practically dropped the beer before sprinting out the door and back into the car.

Sam had to park down the street and a police barricade stopped him from getting all the way to the motel, but it was just as he feared. It was fully engulfed in flames and Sam was frozen to the spot as he watched. He couldn't even think. All he could do was stare at the building as it burned. He vaguely heard a woman near him giving an account of what she'd seen to a uniformed police officer and he forced himself to listen.

"I was just coming into the parking lot," he heard her say. "The place just exploded. I couldn't believe it."

"Did you see anyone running from the building?"

Sam saw the woman shake her head. "No. All of a sudden it was just….I don't see how anyone could have gotten out."

Sam didn't realize he'd backed away until he was on all fours, throwing up behind a tree. How could it have happened? How the hell could the whole place just _explode_? Dean….if anyone could get out of it, it would be his brother. Sam forced himself to his feet. He dialed his brother's cell phone, but the call immediately went to voice mail. Convincing himself that didn't mean anything, Sam made his way closer to the building, keeping to the perimeter of the property.

---

Two hours later the fire was out, but the remains of the hotel were still smoldering. Sam had been stopped and restrained before he got to the motel and hysterically explained that his brother had been in one of the rooms. Even then, it was fairly certain that there would no survivors. A few bodies had been brought out, but most of the rooms had been so fully destroyed that there was little hope for even finding most of the remains. The one Sam and Dean had been staying in was one such room.

When the police let Sam go, he wandered back to the Impala. He had no idea what to do next and was sitting behind the wheel of the car when it hit him. If Dean was dead, why hadn't the day reset? Why wasn't he sitting up in bed listening to that damn song again?

"He's not dead," Sam said to himself. "Dean's not dead."

With a feeling of encouragement, Sam got out of the car and went back to the motel. Guards had been posted, but since the ruins were still too hot to allow investigation, most everyone else had left. Sam moved as quickly and quietly as he could, searching the entire area. He was able to get all the way to what had been their room, but found no sign of his brother.

Not allowing negativity to stop him, Sam mentally walked through all of their contingency plans for unexpected separation and realized where his brother must have gone. He raced back to the car, certain he would find Dean soon. He idly wondered why Dean had decided to put one of their plans into place instead of just coming to find him at the convenience store, or looking for him in the crowd at the motel. It occurred to him that the fire had been deliberately set by someone or, more likely some_thing _and that Dean must have seen it and gone into hiding.

---

The brothers had all sorts of code words and plans in place for emergency situations. They'd built on what their father had developed, with some of the strategies being ridiculously complicated, while others were as simple as making it to the next town and checking into the first motel listed in the yellow pages. The action depended upon the cause for it and the cause could range from very broad to quite specific.

If Sam was right, he'd find his brother at the bar that was furthest from the motel. If it was closed, there was another set of logic to follow, and Sam had already figured out that his destination in that case would be the gas station closest to the west edge of town. Sometimes he thought the whole contingency plan organization was too complicated, but it had been successful every time they'd needed to employ it.

Since it was before 10:00, Sam wasn't surprised to find the bar open. He parked in the first spot he found and rushed inside. It wasn't a large place, but it was very dark and loud. He expected to find Dean sitting at one end of the bar, but none of the few people there was his brother. He spent a few minutes talking to the bartender, but she said that no one matching Dean's description had been in that night.

His momentary high gone, Sam slumped onto a bar stool and tried to figure out his next course of action. He had been sure he'd find Dean here and when he didn't, it seemed like all of the energy had been sucked out of him. Sam knew he had to do something; he had to figure out where else Dean might have gone, but it was just too hard to think right now.

The bartender put a beer in front of him and Sam gripped the bottle tightly. He drank down half of it with no effort, not noticing the concerned look on the server's face.

"So, who is this guy?" she asked gently.

Sam looked at her, not sure he'd heard her correctly. Even listening was too strenuous.

"The guy you're looking for," she tried again. "Who is he?"

"My brother."

"When did you see him last?"

"Not long ago. He….We were staying in the motel and….I'm just trying to figure out where he must have gone."

"Honey," the bartender paused. If Sam had been paying attention, he would have noticed that she was probably in her fifties and had a very kind face. "Are you talking about the motel that burned down?"

Sam glanced at her, then went back to staring at the counter.

"Was he there when it happened?" she asked softly.

"I think so. But….I can't explain it, but I know he's not dead. I just have to figure out where he went."

Sam didn't see the sympathy in her eyes and he barely felt her hand as she set it gently on his wrist. "Darlin', I heard about that fire. It was bad. The whole place went up in a second and they haven't found any survivors. If your brother was in the room –"

"He's not dead!" Sam insisted, his anger rising. "I can't tell you how I know, but I know."

The bartender took a step backward when Sam pulled away from her and stood up. The sudden action would have been startling anyway, but Sam was imposing at his full height. He pulled a few dollars from his pocket and dropped them onto the bar before turning away angrily. He didn't see her pick up the money or the sympathetic expression on her face as she watched him stalk away.

Sam's sudden anger was gone by the time he reached the Impala. He practically fell into the seat, the feeling of exhaustion overtaking him again. After putting the key in the ignition, Sam leaned back and rubbed his face. A long as the day didn't reset, Sam was sure his brother was out there. He had to find Dean.

---

"Sonofabitch," Dean muttered to himself as he sat up. He realized he was sitting on the ground, but had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there. His left arm hurt and when he looked down, he saw his sleeve was covered in blood. A quick examination revealed a long and deep gash, but the bleeding had almost completely stopped.

After a few minutes, he figured out he was in the woods near the motel. He smelled smoke, immediately remembering what had happened. He'd heard the explosion and had stepped out of the door to find what had blown up. He remembered thinking it had been close and the shock of seeing a wall of flame devouring the long building as it moved toward the room he and Sam were sharing was still with him. The blaze moved faster than Dean would have thought possible and after a moment of shocked paralysis, he'd managed to get out of the room only moments before another explosion. There had been no time to take anything with him; he'd been lucky just to get out himself.

Cradling his arm against his chest, Dean tried to clear his head and figure out what to do. He stood on wobbly legs having to lean against a tree for support. Using the smell of smoke from the fire as a guide, he moved forward. With a pounding head and enough dizziness to keep him from moving very quickly, Dean walked knowing he had to find Sam. His brother would no doubt be worried about him and Dean wasn't sure he wouldn't pass out again. He knew he needed help.

The woods hadn't seemed that deep from the motel room window, but it seemed like the more he walked, the further he had to go. Finding himself short of breath and with a lightheadedness that wasn't entirely unexpected, Dean fell against a nearby tree with the shoulder of his injured arm. He growled in pain as he fell to the ground and the woods around him evaporated into blackness.

---

After reaching the fourth location the contingency planning led him to and with still no luck finding Dean, Sam was barely able to think. He had been in a lot of seemingly hopeless situations before, but he'd always found a way out. Despondent and afraid, Sam sat on the hood of the Impala to consider his options.

He knew that on foot, Dean wouldn't have been able to make it very far and there just weren't that many places he could be. Even though the general consensus seemed to be that no one had survived the fire, Sam called the closest hospitals only to be told that no there had been no unidentified patients admitted that evening. He tried Dean's cell phone again with no luck. He even retraced his steps to some of the places he'd already been. It was as if his brother had just disappeared.

And yet, the day had not reset. It was still Tuesday and it was quickly approaching midnight. Sam realized that every previous Tuesday, he'd been with Dean when he'd died. Maybe that was the difference; maybe by being separated the day would continue as normal and he would find Dean on Wednesday.

Sam made his way back to the motel. It was all but deserted and he shivered as he stared at the still smoldering ruin. With the freedom to look around that he hadn't had before, Sam began to search the shallow woods. He was looking forward to midnight, but what if he was wrong about what it meant? Or, what if he still couldn't find Dean even though time continued normally?

Trying to push the negative thoughts away, Sam decided to take a look through the woods that were across from the motel. The area was actually not much more than a couple of undeveloped lots; the foliage wasn't even particularly dense. Even though Sam tried to be optimistic, his thoughts continued to grow dark. At the moment, he wasn't so concerned about finding Dean before the day reset or even Dean being hurt.

_What does it even matter?_ Sam thought. _If the day resets, I get Dean back for a while. If Wednesday comes, that's just one day closer to him going to Hell. I may have lived through almost 97 Tuesdays, but that was like 97 extra days with my brother._

_Why did he make that deal? Why does he keep thinking that my life is so much more important than his? Did Dad do that to him? Did Dad make him think he was secondary to me? _

Sam continued forward, barely looking around and lost in his thoughts. It didn't even occur to him that at this rate, he'd have to trip over his brother to find him.

_I know Dad loved us; I know he did. Dad loved Dean….he gave up his life for Dean. It wasn't just…I know Dad and I couldn't have existed together for very long, but I know he didn't do it just for that. Dean was his son, too. God, at least I hope that's what Dad was thinking._

_What am I going to do without him? Dean has always, _always_ been there. Even when I was at school….I know he would have answered the phone if I'd called. He would have at least listened to the voice mail. Why didn't I call? Why did I do that to him; shut him out that way? Dean's right; I'm selfish. I wanted to live some stupid ideal; I wanted to have a _normal_ life. What does that mean, anyway? _

_Dean shouldn't have made that deal and I don't think I can save him. I can't stop it. Ruby can't help….if she could, she'd have done it by now and we wouldn't be playing these stupid games. Demons lie. I can pretend all I want that sometimes they tell the truth, but mostly they lie and Ruby lied when she said she could save Dean. He's going to die and he's going to Hell; there's nothing I can do to stop it._

_So, why am I trying to hard now? _

Sam stopped walking and leaned back against a tree, taking a deep breath. He looked up at the sky surprised to see the stars had disappeared, covered now by what appeared to be a thick layer of clouds.

_This is how it's going to be,_ Sam realized. _I'll be by myself; hunting or whatever. Dean will be dead; his soul in Hell. Dad isn't even there any more to take care of him. Dad being with him made it almost okay; not really, but….Dean will be alone. Suffering and alone. _

Sam pulled his gun from where it had been tucked into his waistband and sat down on the ground, his back against the tree. He knew how much it bothered Dean to be alone and he'd thought about that a lot over the years, wondering what scared Dean so much about it. The closest he'd been able to get to an explanation was that it stemmed from being left alone so much as kids. Their dad would go off on hunts and wasn't always able to find adult care for them. Sam had assumed at the time that Dean was tough and could handle anything, but later he'd started to wonder how much of a toll that had taken on his brother. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise most of the time, Sam knew his brother wasn't a superhero.

_It's just all so pointless. Maybe it should just end now._

Sam looked at the gun; he really studied it while thinking about all the damage it could do to a human body.

---

Dean didn't know how long his eyes had been open. It seemed as if one moment he'd been bathed in blackness and the next he was looking at a tree in front of him. His head still hurt, but at least his arm had gone numb. One quick glance proved that it had not fallen off. He thought about looking at his watch, but the time didn't really matter.

The sky was no longer clear. Clouds had moved in and Dean could hear the howling of the wind in the branches overhead. He carefully got to his feet and once he was sure he wasn't going to just fall back down, he picked a direction and started off. He didn't know how long he'd been walking or how far, when he saw someone off in the distance.

Dean squinted, not sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, but there was really someone sitting against a tree ahead. He got closer and was sure it was Sam, but before he could call out, Dean saw the gun in his brother's hands.

Sam wasn't holding it in an offensive way, but rather like he was contemplating the weapon. Afraid for Sam, Dean no longer felt his own pain and after a moment, he began to move forward again.

"Sammy?" Sam should have heard him coming, but even after Dean said his name, Sam didn't look up. Dean took a few more careful steps forward. "Sam?"

"It just doesn't matter," Sam said.

Dean wasn't sure if Sam knew he was there, but he didn't like the look on his brother's face. He even seemed smaller somehow.

"What doesn't matter, Sam?" Dean asked. He wanted to crouch in front of Sam, but he couldn't balance himself and ended up sitting on the ground instead.

"I've been looking for you." Sam still didn't look up and his voice sounded strange. "I knew you were alive because it's still Tuesday and not Tuesday again. But it doesn't matter."

"Why do you say that?"

"I can't save you."

Dean watched the gun in Sam's hands. "You can't save me from what?"

"Hell."

Dean suddenly felt cold, but he kept his expression neutral in case Sam finally looked at him. He didn't know what to say.

"I've watched you die 96 times and I've been trying to find a way to make it stop, but in the end, you're going to die anyway and you're going to Hell. I can't fix that and I'm tired of pretending. It hurts too much, Dean."

"Hey, come on, one problem at a time, huh? What are you doing with your gun, there, Sammy?" Dean saw Sam shrug as he kept staring at the gun in his hand. Dean wanted nothing more than to get it away from him, but he wasn't sure he could move fast enough. He was going to have to talk it away from his brother.

"I can't watch you die again and I can't watch while you go to Hell. I just –"

"So, you're just gonna give up? That's not like you, Sammy. When you're faced with a challenge, you don't back down. You dig your heels in and fight harder. What's going on? Hmm?" Sam didn't respond and Dean watched his face closely. "I know this has been hard for you and I know you're tired, but what you're thinking? It's not the answer, Sammy. I'm not going to sit here and let you hurt yourself."

"But I'm supposed to sit by and watch you die? Again?"

"We're close to figuring this out, Sam. All those charts you did? We're within a couple of suspects and we'll stop it. Hell, it's almost midnight now, right? Maybe we've already stopped it."

Sam shook his head. "So we stop Tuesday. We get out of the time loop. Then what? In less than a year the Hell Hounds come for you and –"

"We'll figure a way out of that, too. Hey, you promised me, right? You said it was your turn to save my ass for a change," Dean said softly. "You owe me that, right?"

"What if I can't?" Sam whispered. Dean had to scoot closer to hear him above the wind.

"Then I'll find a way to claw myself out. I'm not gonna leave you alone for long, Sammy."

Sam took a deep breath and slowly raised his head. Not since right after Jessica died had Dean seen him look so lost and miserable.

It had been so easy to make Sam laugh when he was little. Despite how broken their little family was, Sam had been a happy kid. At least for a while. Somehow he and their dad had managed to keep Sam content and innocent of the supernatural for nearly ten years and Dean desperately wished he could give that back to his little brother.

"I've beaten the odds before," Dean continued, encouraged by Sam's small movement. "And if I really only have a little time left, you can't make me spend it by myself."

"You're stronger than you think you are," Sam said as the wind blew even harder.

"I won't live without you, Sam. Not after all this time; not after everything I've done. If you use that gun on yourself tonight, I'll be right behind you."

Their eyes locked and Dean knew he'd said the right thing.

"Give me the gun, Sam." Dean held out his hand.

Sam looked down at it, then back to his brother. There was only a brief hesitation before he handed the gun to Dean and as soon as he did, a large gust of wind blew through the woods. Sam looked up when he heard the crack of a branch….

_It was the heat of the moment  
Telling me what your heart meant  
Heat of the moment shone in your eyes_


End file.
